


Hugs and Kisses

by fairdeath



Category: Markiplier RPF, Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hotels, Late Night Conversations, Naked Cuddling, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:59:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairdeath/pseuds/fairdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark loves the rain, storms, loves the burst of light, city below lit up for an instant, before plunging into darkness, but even the unexpected roar can and does make him jump, arms holding you impossibly closer. </p>
<p>“I’m not a teddy bear you can hold when you’re scared,” you remind him, pressing a kiss to his pectoral anyway, thumb rubbing across the spot with an affection thumbs cannot possess alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hugs and Kisses

You aren’t sure what wakes you up; whether it’s the startlingly loud sound of the lightning cracking outside, downtown city quiet amongst the heavy bustle of rain drops, or the warm arms around your waist that squeeze tight.

Of course it storms the one weekend you’re in town, with Mark, at a convention. The bed, although luxuriously soft, is not your own (or Mark’s for that matter), and it’s cold, but he’s radiating heat, and his natural scent, and alpha male, and home. His arms hold you close, wrapped around your back and burying large hands between supple skin and hotel sheets.

Your arms, like usual when you’re privileged enough to sleep with him, and not fall asleep through a screen together, are balled up tight in front of your chest, open palm pressed to Mark’s steady, strong heartbeat beneath firm skin. His knee is pressed between your own, interlocking your thighs – his soft, but unremarkably strong ones in contrast to your own soft, but heavy thighs.

Another crack of lightning comes unexpectedly. Your eyes see the flash of light before your ears hear the below of angered Gods. The lighting it provides does not leave an echo in its remembrance, but it does provide enough time to see Mark’s eyes, hazed from sleep, but focusing as much as possible without his glasses. He looks down to you, eyes adjusted to the dark now, and presses a kiss to your hair, disastrous mess from uneasy sleep.

Mark loves the rain, storms, loves the burst of light, city below lit up for an instant, before plunging into darkness, loves the clap of thunder, the echoes it leaves, the shakes it sends through his house. But even the unexpected roar can and _does_ make him jump, arms holding you impossibly closer.

“I’m not a teddy bear you can hold when you’re scared,” you remind him, pressing a kiss to his pectoral anyway, thumb rubbing across the spot with an affection thumbs cannot possess alone. Mark’s silent laughter shakes his torso, your own moving with it, smile soft and peaceful in the quiet of the hotel room, sky fighting the earth outside. Mark moves the arm wrapped around your torso to your thigh, fingers gripping the plumpness there.

“Cute and soft enough to be,” he murmurs, voice like gravy, smooth and strong. Your snort of laughter does not deter him, fingers tracing indecipherable patterns across the stretch lines across the latitude of your skin. You hum in contentment, bringing your arm around his hips, resting.

“Mmm,” you hum in consideration, “wouldn’t that make _you_ a teddy bear as well?” you ask, index finger and thumb pinching the plushness of his backside. His hand snaps to your own, slapping the offender, before intertwining your dainty fingers with his large ones, bringing them to his mouth.

He presses a kiss to them softly, audibly, before making a further comment. “I don’t think I’m hairy enough for that,” he concedes, thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. You look up to him, a smile big enough with adoration to show teeth, and bring your free hand to his jaw, thumb caressing the line between stubble and cheek.

“We can’t all be perfect,” you admit, “I’ll love you even if you aren’t covered in hair.”

His eye glimmer with mischief, as well as a deep seated love for you.

“Even when I’m old and you have help me shave my ear hair?” he mocks, laughter in his voice even as he says the words.

“As long as you help me paint my toes in my old age,” you barter, “all old lady shoes show your toes, and nothing is worse than untamed old lady feet.”

“I’ll paint your toes every day if that’s all I have to do to get you to spend the rest of forever with me,” he promises, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Buy me a dog first, we’ll see how far parenthood takes us,” you try to lighten up the conversation. Four AM and in the nude is not how the conversation of Forever should go.

“Shelter pup?” He follows your tangent, smile in his voice. His hands free your own before tucking them under your armpits, tugging you up the bead, head now higher up on his arm, within kissing distance. Your head nods in confirmation as he leans in closer.

“Big or small?” He asks, lips so close the hairs of his chin tickle your mouth.

“Big,” you reply, “to the dog and the kiss.”

And oblige, he does.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a golden retriever at the park today. Her person told me her name was Honey and she only goes on walks for pats. Maybe one day my special someone will buy me a golden retriever and call us both honey.


End file.
